


Just Banana

by PinkRangerV



Series: Ice Cream Series [2]
Category: Power Rangers Megaforce
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character turned evil, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, POV Second Person, Rape/Non-con References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:06:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkRangerV/pseuds/PinkRangerV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someday, maybe, you'll be able to look at your team again without it falling apart, and it starts here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Banana

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably note that in this mini-series, I basically turn Jake into a rapist. That is NOT my headcanon for Jake! None of this is even remotely my headcanon, I'm just playing with the characters, and Jake\Gia will probably turn into a pairing that functions, even if my OTP is Gia\Emma absent _major_ character changes. So yeah, this is VERY AU and I am not a Jake hater, although mildly annoyed by Jake, yes.

When you wake, it's to a growl of thunder.

The lightning streaks again, followed a few seconds later by its own roar. It's raining. You blink at the world. Sitting curled up next to the Dumpster, you weren't getting rained on, not really. But now the rain's changed.

It stings your red wrists.

You get to your feet, stiff and awkward. Your whole body hurts. You limp away from the hidden place in the alleyway. You have to keep moving now, or you'll freeze.

You have to survive.

You don't know why, actually. Maybe it's only the Power clinging to you, demanding your life. But what can you do? You aren't a Ranger anymore. You're barely a person. You're just another homeless girl wandering the streets, helpless and abandoned.

You used to have a future...

The streets are empty at night, and they're unfamiliar. Where are you? You look around, confused, lost, and maybe you aren't in Angel Grove anymore. Oh, wait, now you remember. You're not. There was a week, two, of driving, driving, hitching rides with anyone and just trying to get away, while whatever happened filtered out of your system. Drugged, dazed, you just fled.

Now you're alone.

It's the best you could ask for, because on these unfamiliar streets and with no one near you are _safe_. No hands try to clasp yours, no lips claim kisses, no hearts tug on yours. There is no one here you know. You are safe.

A woman runs past you, her arms laden with groceries. You watch her for a minute. But then she stops and turns.

You freeze.

“Hey!” The woman jogs up to you. “Hey, I'm sorry to bother you...I'm with the Silver Guardians, are you okay?”

You'd reply but you'd forgotten how to speak, and your body speaks for you, edging away, frightened.

“Hey, it's okay!” The woman frowns. She's so small. And Pink. The Power finally breaks through—a Pink Ranger.

 _Emma_.

The memory of your angel is so strong it almost breaks through. You bite back the scream and turn to run.

No. You were safe.

You were _safe_...

 

* * *

 

A battle gone wrong.

Emma was furious at Jake, and Jake, not understanding why, was clowning around even more than usual. On the battlefield. You'd had to jump away from your own fight to stop Emma from shoving her blaster in Jake's face...which, naturally, was when the Buggers (Noah had waited a full week to make that reference, but since you didn't know their species name, it worked,) detonated some sort of bomb.

It hadn't hurt, but it had been distracting enough for them to capture you.

Only you.

They beat you, forced you to demorph. Then one of them dragged you up and through the ship before forcing you to kneel before their leader, your arms locked above your head so you couldn't escape.

You glared. Just glared. Let them see this, as a first glimpse of humanity: Even captured, even beaten so badly you couldn't sustain a morph, your overriding sentiment was simply expressed.

Fuck. You.

“Creepox! Release her.” The leader's expression didn't change, but his tone did. “That's not how we treat our guests.”

Guests your ass, but when Creepox ( _seriously_? That _had_ to mean something different in their language) let you go, you stood and tried not to wince, schooling your features to calmness, but still displaying that you would kill them all as soon as you got the chance.

Strange. You'd always felt, as a Ranger, like a child in her mother's clothes, but now...now there was no question. Being a Ranger just was what you were.

“Forgive our rough manners, Yellow Ranger.” The leader half-bowed. “I am Admiral Malkor of the Warstar People. These are my fellow leaders, Creepox and Vrak.”

You inclined your head. Your expression did not change.

Admiral Malkor nodded his head. The other beings in the room vanished, and even Creepox and Vrax suddenly found other things to do. (Admiral Malkor, Creepox, Vrax, Warstar People...you had _names_ , finally, a starting point, something to search for!) “May I congratulate you, Yellow Ranger? Your team has been a formidable foe against us. My people see that as nothing but honor.”

...What?

“And I recently discovered you are children!” Admiral Malkor shakes his head, his tone warm. “Your parents must be so proud.”

You smiled wryly. “Thank you.” You can accept praise. Sort of. Part of you is shying away, but the rest of you acknowledged this as a starting point. “Do you always kidnap people to congratulate them?”

“Actually, I had a proposition for you.” Admiral Malkor said.

Silence. “I'm listening.” Or at least moving the conversation along.

Admiral Malkor did something, and replayed the last battle. Jake and Emma's voices filled the room.

 _“Whoa, Em, watch out!”_ Jake shouted.

 _“Mind your own fucking business.”_ Emma snapped back.

 _“Hey, sorry, just spreadin' the love.”_ Jake said, and you could almost hear him rolling his eyes. You knew this footage, from the start of the last battle. The start of the last argument. _“Wait a minute...”_ Jake burst out laughing there on the battlefield.

You darted onto the holographic screen, shooting the Loogies off him and shouting at him to get his head out of the clouds already.

Watching, you turned away.

“Strange.” Admiral Malkor said, not unkindly. “That you, their team leader, would be such a prize to them.”

“How'd you get into our comms?” You weren't going there. Not into that minefield.

“Does he truly love you, Yellow Ranger?” Admiral Malkor's face probably wasn't expressionless, but you aren't even the same species, reading it is beyond you. “We do not have love, not the way you humans do, but I know how important it is to you. The whole journey here, I have spent studying your kind, and love...you prize it above all other emotions, especially in mating rituals.” Admiral Malkor's eyes drifted to the screen, where Jake was teasing Emma, unthinkingly cruel. “Why give your body to someone who cares nothing for you? Or the woman you love?”

Oh, that was painful. “Get to the point.” You snapped.

It wasn't the wisest move in hindsight. As it stood, Malkor simply paused, then made his offer. “Here, you would not be asked to sacrifice yourself that way.”

“You want me to join you.” Last you'd heard that bland tone from your mouth, you were leaving Emma, the words ashes in your mouth. Now there simply was nothing to feel.

“And would that truly be so bad?” Admiral Malkor did not coax or wheedle, simply offered. “Look at what your own people have done to each other. Half your planet is trying to kill each other. Humans would not suffer under us—we would offer peace! An end to the cruelties of your world. Bombs thrown like toys, people sold and bought...”

“You ever get around to history?” You deadpanned.

Admiral Malkor snorted. “Yes. I did.” He might have shrugged, but that was hard to interpret. It might as well have been a middle finger, or the alien version. “We would not stay long. Only a generation or two. Long enough for people to grow discontent, but also long enough to remind them of what peace could be. It would grant them more than you know.”

Oh, how ironic was it, that you almost wanted this dream more than anything you'd ever wanted. True peace. Because he was _right_ , and you knew it—hold humanity captive forever and you'd get nothing, but _let_ the rebellion come...

Only this was reality, not a comic book. People didn't work that way, and it stood as much chance of failing as succeeding. And even then, who said this guy was telling the truth? He was your enemy. Trusting him was a mistake.

You wanted it. But you knew to let it go.

“Thank you. But no.”

Admiral Malkor nodded, definitely a nod. “I understand. But I thought it would be right to ask.” He walked over to a small blaster on a console...no, a gun, a full-blown gun that looked like it could kill you in a heartbeat. “Should you ever change your mind, Yellow Ranger, the offer is always open.”

He aimed the gun. You looked what you thought was your death in the eye.

It would have been better if the gun had killed you.

 

* * *

 

You lose the woman after a while.

Slowly your heart rate goes down and you look for a safe place. You see one, a small hole formed by trash—why is it always trash—and head for it.

In the darkness, knees against your chest and body shaking from the cold and wet, you shut your eyes. You would cry, but there aren't tears.

You remember being a girl named Gia. You remember having friends. You remember Emma, the woman you loved more than life itself.

The memories seem so faint now.

You drift away. Sleep, maybe. When you wake up the woman is there, her groceries set aside, waiting for you. “Hey, there. I'm sorry I scared you earlier. My name's Jen. I'm a good guy, I promise.”

You turn your head away.

“Hey.” She calls your attention back to her with a tap on your hand. She doesn't remind you of Emma now. But the Power is there. “Yellow. Look at me.” Yellow? Right, she can hear your Power the way you can hear hers. “Are you sick? Drugged?”

“It's gone now.” Your voice is quiet.

“I have a couch if you want it.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

She sits on the wet asphalt, not even caring that it'll mess up that dark uniform she's wearing. “What are you doing?” You manage.

“I'm going to wait with you.” The woman—Jen—says.

Oh.

You don't move for a while. But then you reach out and take her hand. “You're gonna get cold.”

“It's fine, I've been colder.” She doesn't seem to shiver much. “Do you want to come inside now? We can go anywhere you want. Doesn't have to be my place. Motel, shelter, anywhere.”

You remember someone named Emma and Troy and Noah and even Jake. You remember the feeling, vaguely, from your childhood of warmth and safety. You're a bit afraid, but overwhelming the fear is simply the need for someone to be _there_. The need to have Jen stay. “Can...is it too late to crash on your couch?”

“No, honey. Not at all.” She tugs at your hand, gently. “Come on. It's not too far.”

You follow.

 

* * *

 

The world was clearer than it had ever been.

You walked into the Youth Center calm and confident. It was a better meeting place than the Brain Freeze, and the Rangers were there, sure enough. They hid their worry so well, these Rangers...

No. Emma stared at her homework with tears in her eyes.

You resisted the urge to comfort her. Establishing dominance now was crucial. You'd known that as soon as you'd left the Warstar ship. Admiral Malkor might have told you that, except when he'd lowered the gun you'd said you still weren't working for him, but a common enemy did wonders.

Admiral Malkor had laughed and agreed.

The Rangers sensed you as soon as you walked in. Power calls to Power, and you all heard it so well now. No one else would think to look twice at you, but they knew something was wrong the second you came in the door.

You walked over to the sparring mat, glancing at Jake. “Spar with me?”

Jake looked for Troy, but he was absorbed in some kata or other now that he'd realized it was you, working alone as always. Someone really needed to crack that boy out of his shell, you'd thought in amusement before realize it wasn't going to be _you_...oh, the weight off your shoulders. It was amazing.

This was the power of Malkor's gun. The world was _clear_ now. You could stand alone in your thoughts and see the world as it was, and simply realize what had to be done. You weren't tied down by your insecurities and pains. The Rangers were just _someone else's problem_ , because you'd decided to be free.

You'd fight Malkor, of course. Alone, if you needed to, but you had a few plans there (armies might not have been good enough for Gosei, but his opinion hardly mattered with his lair in shambles and that tiki head broken, leaving him unable to communicate). But for now, a better fight.

You and Jake faced each other.

You did not hold back. He fell.

When he bounced up a cold light was in his eyes. “So.” He asked, circling you warily. “Gosei dead?”

“No. He's energy.” You lashed out. Jake dodged. “But you'll never see him again.”

Jake took the blow to the stomach just like you'd planned, and a second to the back of the legs. He fell.

You waited.

He stood and you lashed out and he made a babyish attempt at fighting, but really, you were always the team's leader, you were always better-trained than the rest of them. Even Emma forgot to train more than remembered. Still, you humored him. Why not?

He felt better, maybe, after you let him think he was winning. He never touched you, of course. So _considerate_ , your boyfriend. But then he leaned in and whispered, “Gia, we're going to save you.”

And then you let loose.

It was a beatdown that you'd never tried before and was definitely going to get you banned from the Youth Center, but oh, god. It was _amazing_. And when Jake fell, bruised and exhausted, you pinned him down and whispered, “ _Save_ me? From what, Jake? From the boy so _arrogant_ he couldn't hear me all but tell him to _go fuck himself_?”

He looked so confused. So childlike.

“ _I. Love. Emma_.” You hissed. “And I only fucked you to keep the team together. But I'm done. I will _never_ have to let you anywhere _near_ me again.” You caught his chin, forced him to look at you.

This needed to stick.

“Come after me, Jake.” You said in a pleasant voice, “Go ahead. Try it. Try and tell me how much you _know_ I love you, how much I need you, how much you love me. Try and kiss me, even. And I will tear your balls off and use your own intestines to strangle you.”

Then you stood.

Lt. Stone stood behind the sparring mats, watching.

“I'm leaving.” You told him.

“You aren't coming back.”

“Wasn't planning on it.” You walked up to Emma and hugged her. Just...hugged her. It felt so good...

She drew away.

That hurt. A lot. But you'd hesitated, then said, “...When you're ready.” A pause. “Please.”

Then you'd walked away.

You had the Warstar to fight.

 

* * *

 

Jen lives in an apartment. It's small, but feels safe.

In the bathroom, you hear her on the phone with someone. Her voice is a soft lullaby. You want to cry again, but there aren't tears. Instead you dry off and change into the yellow nightgown and pink bathrobe she left for you. It feels faintly erotic to be wrapped in Emma's color, but you're too overwhelmed by being _safe_ to feel much else.

You come out.

Jen isn't on the phone anymore, she's lounging against a counter while the microwave goes. “You hungry? I'm heating some stuff up. Chicken, biscuits. My boyfriend cooks a lot, and I don't think I can eat all the leftovers.”

“Thank you.” Your voice is so soft now.

Jen smiles, sympathetically but understanding. There's darkness in her eyes, like the darkness that's stolen you. “Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head.

“Okay.”

The two of you lounge together until the microwave beeps, and then she takes tea and some cookies and you take your food and you eat together. The silence feels comfortable.

“Gia?” Jen knows your name? “Are you hurt?”

You blink at her. If she knows enough to ask your name, why would she ask _that_? “I killed people.” You whisper. “I got them killed.”

“Not my question.” Jen is so calm, so soothing. She takes a sip of her tea, and you don't have even a hint that she's upset. “Any major cuts, bruises? Broken bones?”

“I...don't think so.” You whisper.

Jen nods and smiles. “Great. I was worried.”

“I almost killed him.”

Jen nods again, no smile this time. She understands. The darkness is in her eyes, like it is in yours. “Let's talk about that, then.”

You hesitate, pure reflex. Then, slowly, you speak.

You trust.

 

* * *

 

Getting the United Nations Security Council to listen to a Power Ranger was surprisingly easy.

You hadn't been in charge, not really. That was good, you didn't want it. You were only the guardian; humankind had to decide its own fate. But you ended up with a team of soldiers, and they laughed and joked with you, and wow, this was _team_ and _friendship_. It was so fun. Even if you had to struggle to catch up, you didn't regret a minute, because they just felt like _friends_.

It was nothing like being a Ranger and everything you'd hoped to be.

Troy and Noah lurked in the shadows. Jake had the sense not to come. You did your job and ignored the medals the military tried to give you (your teammates told you they gave you a medal for taking a shit), and you wore your armor and fatigues with pride.

Then came the first test. A monster.

You walked in with backup, but you took point. And then the Rangers appeared. You coordinated the resulting mess efficiently, referring to the Rangers by color to keep them from pissing you off. And it worked. It _worked_. You told them to join up when they were ready, whispered a private goodbye to Emma on the comm, and then left.

Your CO took you out to the bar and the two of you quietly got trashed that night.

But overall the fight was being won. It was the most glorious few weeks of your life. Monsters came; you fought; you won. Sometimes with your team, sometimes without.

And then one day it was decided that it was time to go on the offensive.

That was when it went to shit. You were a good warrior and a strategetic leader, but when you left Earth's atmosphere in jury-rigged jet fighters you found out real damn fast that the Warstar were used to interstellar warfare and you were _not_. And the men and women you fought alongside and shot the breeze with and laughed and hoped and prayed with, the ones who were your team, were shot down, and so were you.

You found out your suit was nearly indestructible. Direct blows were one thing, but apparently it was designed to register explosions or interstellar combat and become a life-support suit. You fell to Earth and spent a day in medical and when you got out...

They were holes in your heart. Everywhere you turned you wanted them to be there. And they weren't there.

They weren't there.

A psychologist talked to you and recommended leave. Turned out that was a polite way of saying ordered. You never really cared. You walked around, like a ghost, in the hallways they'd been, the barracks and the training grounds and the base...

A couple of the officers steered you, surprisingly gently, back to your quarters. When they realized you wouldn't break something or go off, though, they let you wander.

Then the base was attacked.

It was the Warstar, everyone thought. You morphed almost by reflex. No. Their deaths would not kill you, your precious team; you, in that moment, snapped back into life and ran to command the fight.

And then you saw that the bombers carried North Korea's symbol.

You survived this attack too, but when you got to the UN to report it you discovered that the world had gone insane. Half of the countries on the planet were attempting some kind of coup. Some were succeeding. It was World War III.

And you couldn't fix it, because Creepox teleported into the room where you'd managed to gather Earth's leaders together and kidnapped you again. And they still had the gun.

And this time it wasn't clarity they'd granted you.

 

* * *

 

“So let me get this straight.” Jen says. You've finished talking. The food you were both eating is gone, and Jen brought out cocoa that's been drunk. “You let your teammate break up your committed relationship to keep the team together, were turned evil, kicked his ass, accidentally caused World War III, got turned evil _again,_ actually did the evil thing for a change, and then took off and wound up in Silver Hills, Oregon.”

“Um. Yes.”

“And you're blaming _yourself_ for this because?”

You look at her, stunned. Jen isn't joking. One eyebrow is raised, and this is the most serious you've heard her yet.

“Gia.” Your name, after so long...it's so strange to hear. “I know that kind of mind-control. It takes pre-existing emotions and makes them stronger. You had an atypical reaction the first time, but it still boils down to this: _None_ of this would have happened if your team hadn't screwed you over.”

You don't know how to reply.

“When you went to the UN. That was _you_ , Gia.” Jen says, leaning forward. “That was you, defending the world. When you talked to Emma? That was your love for her. And when you beat up Jake? You were defending yourself.” Jen's eyes don't leave yours, dark and strong and sure. “You had every right to.”

“...No.”

Jen sighs. “I hate the two thousands.” Hunh? “Gia, how many times did you tell Jake no?”

You shake your head. “Hundreds of times.” You laugh a bit. “Emma and I came out to the guys just to shut him up.”

“And don't you think he should have listened?”

You hesitate. “I...I shouldn't have been so mean to him.” You mumble, repeating what Troy and Noah said, because, well, it's all you know. After all, you don't want to be _that girl_ , that one that men hold up to explain why they hate everyone because someone ripped their heart out. No one wants that. Right? “I could've been nice.”

“Let me rephrase.” Jen said dryly. “He should have listened. No means no.”

Oh.

Your mind goes back, to all those times, that dark and stinky room and the hands so rough on you, until the pain...not often, not really, but it filled those few weeks with a stench you could never wash off. Maybe the best part of Malkor's gun had been that you finally felt _clean_.

“He raped you.” Jen says quietly, as if she can read your thoughts. “From what you told me, he basically raped you, Gia. He hounded you and manipulated you until you did what he wanted, and that was his pattern, even though he knew you were lesbian.”

“He _didn't_.” This seems important somehow, like the point on the tabletop you're staring at. “He didn't know. He was laughing at Emma because he thought we were only flirting.”

“He didn't know because he didn't listen.”

You don't know who to believe. You don't know what makes sense. If Jen's right, if he manipulated you and raped you, wouldn't someone have _noticed_? Why would everyone have smiled and said what a cute couple you were if it were that fundamentally _wrong_?

Jen sees some of it written on your face. “And it's hard for you to hear this, too, isn't it.” You nod. Jen sighs and takes your hand, squeezing it. “I know.” She says gently. “It's always hard.”

You look up.

Jen smiles dryly. “I _am_ a cop, you know. I've seen abuse cases before.” She looks almost sheepish, shaking her head. “It always confused me, with cases like yours. Why the woman never asked for help. Sometimes she'd stay near the abuser on her own. One woman called me a lying bitch. But I realized...” Jen looks dark again. “You build your whole life around some things. For me, I'm a cop. It's what I am. But I need love, too. If my boyfriend started to hurt me tomorrow...who's to say I'd do better than you?”

Oddly, that comforts you, that she understands. Tears fall. It's...been a long time in coming, these tears. Jen rubs your back while you lay your head on the table and sob.

When the tears pass, you let the silence come in its place.

“What now?” You whisper when the silence is ready to pass, too.

“Now,” Jen says, “You go to bed. The Earth Ranger Corps's been handling World War III, but I'll go find your teammates. We've been looking for you guys a long time, you know.”

“Really?” You remember, suddenly, the old dream you had, of finding the people who came before you.

Jen laughs. “Well, _duh_ , everyone wants to meet the new kids. And I think some friends and I will have a little chat with this Gosei.” She stands. “But for now, bed.”

You stand. You're too drained for anything else.

Jen has a two-bedroom apartment, and one of the bedrooms is converted into a base meant for a cop, but there's a cot. Jen gets out thick pink comforters for you, and you lie in the darkness when she leaves in a warm safe place.

There are tears on your eyes as you fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

No clarity this time, only rage.

Rage and love and emotions so intense you'd never felt anything like them, emotions driving you to protect Emma. Your teammates were predators and monsters. The world was falling apart. You had to save her.

Emma woke with you at her side.

“Gia?” She sounded so scared. “Gia, where are we?”

“My place. I built it.” You smiled, gently, because it was an offering for her as much as a home for you. “Like it?”

Emma looked around, taking in the ruins around her. An abandoned apartment complex, nearly hit with a bomb, nearly but not quite. A place you'd made a home.

And then she shivered and curled her knees up to her chest. “Gia...you _kidnapped_ me...”

Well, _duh_ , you'd kidnapped her. Troy and Noah were really overprotective. Guess they'd figured you'd come for her. “Sorry. Forgot your phone number.” She just stared at you. “Hey, Emma, s'okay, really. I just thought you'd want to hang out or something.” Lame, but it'd do.

“I want to go home.” Emma's voice was so strong, but quavering. She was afraid of you.

“But...but, Em, look, it's not _safe_! Just...just stay with me? Please? And we can hang out and do stuff and...and..” You shook your head. “Please?”

Emma shook her head and shut her eyes. You sat there, helpless, and then you heard a small sound and realized she was crying.

Her fear was like water to your face. God. What were you _doing_? Emma, your _angel_ , was so afraid of you she thought you were going to...no, _no_ , you _were_ doing something horribly wrong now.

“I'm sorry.” You didn't even know what you were apologizing for. “Emma, whatever I did, I'm so, so sorry. I...” You ran a hand through your hair, let the hand fall, helpless and hopeless. “I don't know what to do.”

Emma reached her hand out to touch your face.

This time when you kissed you both wanted it. It was the best kiss in the world, and the two of you lay in bed just making out for what felt like hours. It was amazing.

She lay atop you, stroking your hair. She weighed less than you, now. You were surprised by how _breakable_ she felt after a few weeks of basic and being in morph half the time. You reached up to touch her face, re-learn the lines. There was perfection here.

The golden moment lasted for a perfect eternity, but then Emma's stomach growled and you both laughed. You ate hot dogs you roasted over a tiny fire in a metal bowl and some canned ravioli and joked and laughed.

When Emma fell asleep, you continued your plans to take over the world.

You hadn't planned on Emma waking up. When you realized she was awake it was because of her little gasp, and you turned. “Em...”

You would have explained, shown her—humankind couldn't be trusted to save itself, so you had to save it, bring it together, just for a few months, year tops, while you stopped the Warstars...but she dropped the blanket she was wrapped in, turning to walk away.

“Emma...Emma, _listen_ to me, please, they won't do this unless--”

“Don't. Don't say it.” Emma was crying, pulling on her clothes. “I hate you! You're just like the Buggers! I hate you!”

The rage flared.

You slapped her hard enough to make her actually fall. You hadn't meant it. Not that. But it was done and there and the rage was still in you, still made you cold and furious. You didn't know why. It was just there.

You turned and punched the wall. It left a gaping hole in the drywall. It helped.

You walked away.

An hour later, Emma was gone. So were you.

 

* * *

 

Jen yelled at all of them before letting them see you. You know as soon as you see them. It's in the way they hold themselves, ashamed and shy.

Emma isn't ashamed—Jen probably didn't yell at her for the same reasons, or maybe even at all—but she's still reserved around you. You fall silent in quiet, shamed respect of that. You don't deserve her forgiveness.

Jake takes you aside and apologizes. The words are...meaningless, surprisingly. You still feel the wound, and healing it will take time. He can't repair the damage. But you take the apology as a peace offering. Someday, maybe, you'll be able to look at your team again without it falling apart, and it starts here.

They don't visit long, only an hour or two. The older Rangers, the predecessors, they've come. Very few of your parents survived Angel Grove's bombing. Very few people at all survived it. No country risked Angel Grove spawning more Rangers, and half of California is in shambles. So the older Rangers offered couches and homes. You'll all be in Silver Hills, since Lightspeed's too busy to play host to the Earth Ranger Corps, but away, distant. Taylor, a friend of Jen's, is taking Emma in, and she's going to be close enough to walk to. Maybe you'll email her in a few weeks, just email so she can delete it if she wants.

After they visit, Jen takes you out to train with her. It's more tailored than the military was, and Jen's pleased you can already use a gun and some weapons, at least a bit. You feel better after training. You always have.

“Want some ice cream?” Jen asks on the way home.

You nod. “Can we make banana?”

“Banana-peanut butter? Yeah, I've got stuff.”

You shake your head. “Just banana. Peanut butter isn't that great.”

“Okay.”

And just like that, your new life begins.


End file.
